The Butcher’s Etiquette

In the subterranean markets of the Under-Rim, currency isn’t gold; it’s lineage. Lyra, a noble of the Third Circle, stands before a stall of "Primal Cuts." She isn't looking for sustenance, but for a specific memory locked within the marrow of an ancient enemy. The butcher knows better than to speak; he simply waits as she listens to the meat hum.

"Freshness is a relative term when you're shopping for secrets."